


nobody has to know

by princerai



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Cult Leader Thor, Emotional Manipulation, Intersex Loki, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Sort Of, Stylized Grammar Fuckery, Vaginal Sex, is thor a god?? maybe, mildly inspired by our savior chris in el royale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princerai/pseuds/princerai
Summary: Loki is looking for meaning in life, somewhere beyond the tavern, and indeed, beyond the tavern lies meaning, and a very, very powerful man, with unclear intent, and an open heart waiting just for him.





	nobody has to know

**Author's Note:**

> i uh wanted to just write some unhealthy worship cult leader x new follower type stuff. it's my first time writing the boys as not related and it's a Weird feeling but it was fun anyway.

loki first hears of him through whispers, and wonders if all gods start that way, as mere names spoken in hushed tones in the corners of dark taverns, reverent and fearful.

"he claims to control the clouds."

"alex saw him call down a storm upon the rivers, just to watch it overflow."

"it was a trick, certainly. luck. any man could predict that it is about to rain when the clouds are heavy and grey."

"that's the thing, there were no clouds before that moment. he looked up, closed his eyes, and in a breath, the sun was swallowed up and the dirt at his feet turned to mud in seconds."

"why is he here?"

"he seeks followers, to spread his word."

and of course loki is cynical. any sane man would be. he has lived in this dirty, tiny town for the entirety of his short life, watched a thousand men breeze through these dusty booze soaked walls and they all boasted to be special, that they were on their way to the top, just you wait, someday they will rule this town and then you'll be sorry, bluster bluster blah blah bullshit. 

but, loki is a curious boy, and what more does he have to do with his time?

(cynicism sometimes falls to pieces in the face of the need for meaning. for something to make an ounce of sense. for a life beyond what lies at the bottom of a bottle.)

(loki keeps that to himself. nobody has to know.)

that's what sets him on the dirt path just outside of town, and if he took along one last bottle of whiskey, snatched it off the shelf before sneaking out on the job, he'd never say- and nobody has to know.

the people speak of the abandoned barn not a half hour's stroll from the end of town, where lightning struck the rooftop a year ago and though the flames could be seen for miles around, the building stood strong. not a mark remains, not an ashen streak to be seen. 

loki has never been there, but no time like the present for the drunk and curious and aimless.

past golden rivers of shivering wheat, the barn stands proud and unmarred, and an unnatural glow from within suggests a holy presence- and he could slap himself, _holy_ , really, it's a lantern from within the barn, goddamn. 

unsteady feet carry loki through the wheat, the scratchy little tips brushing the undersides of his trembling palms. the barn stands open, waiting arms to envelop him in its warmth. he would chastise himself for walking just a touch faster, hardly a run, but more than a jog.

voices from within- soft, lilting, speaking of the strength of the crops this year, and it's all thanks to-

"thor?"

he heard the name over and over in the tavern, til it was a constant hiss, a chorus. 

loki catches the name falling from his lips, can't clap his hand over his mouth fast enough to contain it. 

he leans heavy against the barn doorway, no such thing as balance. had the bottle not fallen from his hands and spread itself over the earth, he would think the whiskey was getting to him, and that it was stronger than he could have ever known.

thor, a vision, wavers before loki, certainly human but only just. he wears the guise of human well, his dirty blonde hair falling in wild waves over his ears, the hints of starvation still denting what is now a canvas of muscle carved into unwilling flesh. 

the disguise falls apart at the face. 

unnatural, blue, like he reached into the skies and plucked the color away for himself.

sat at the center of this barn, with its high ceiling, its rafters stuffed full of stale hay, the floors covered in old fraying clothes in lieu of a carpet, thor still resembles a king sat upon his throne. he stretches out over a high pile of hay, clad only in dark trousers that have seen better days. he could have emerged from the soil, wild, bare, and loki would not question that, he would believe it in a second. 

he does not say that. nobody has to know. 

“speak.”

loki flinches at the sound of a woman’s voice, and, yes, there are in fact people here besides thor, though he does not have eyes for them. four of them, scattered through the barn; the speaker stands at thor’s side, dressed in rags. 

her eyes look to be taken from the heavens, just the same as thor’s. 

“what brings you to us?”

loki blinks, and he speaks before he thinks. 

“honestly? i came out here to take a look at the stormcaster i’ve heard so much about, but it would seem he is just a wandering wild man.”

the energy through the barn turns red hot, and loki perspires. 

“our leader is not a spectacle for you to behold.”

another wild man, hidden in the depths of the barn, clad only in his underwear and looking no colder for it. 

“we only accept those who are here to accept him.”

goddamn it all, but hearing two voices speak in tandem sets an icy shudder through loki, cutting past the sweat upon his brow. two more men, they too only in their undergarments, holding hands, sat beside the sole lantern upon the floor near thor’s feet- and their gazes pierce into loki, pinning him where he stands. 

loki thinks he recognizes these people, maybe saw them in his tavern, saw them slouched over glasses filling them to the brim with their tears. 

he would expect not to be afraid of somebody after seeing them at their lowest. he finds he is wrong. 

thor lifts a hand. 

the room falls still, all eyes upon him as he stands. loki— damn it all again— he catches himself taking a step back, as thor crosses the room to him and though loki sees where he was once weak, he still shrinks away.

that same hand thor raised comes to loki’s neck. his touch is not demanding, it does not steer loki, and still he is compelled to look up and meet those stormy sky eyes. 

“you’re bleeding.”

loki blinks. 

“hm?”

“your foot.”

now that he mentions it...

loki looks back. sees his own footprint trailing after him. he lifts his foot now and indeed, a glass shard cuts an ugly path through the sole of his foot. now that he’s aware of it, of course it stings something fierce, and he can’t quite put weight on it now. fucking bottle shattering got him and he didn’t even feel it. 

“come. i’ll look after it.”

god. he came this far. he might as well. or limp the whole way back home and go back to serving drinks to strangers passing through this unremarkable town on their way to cities and stardom. 

and go to bed admitting to himself he gave up this chance for —

something. he does not know yet what it is but he wants it. 

“yeah. sure. yeah.”

x

thor’s people are gone. he waved again— does he control the clouds or the wills of others? — and they left, so that it was only loki and thor, lounging beneath the flickering light of the single lantern. 

he’s lying back on the hay bale, and it feels wrong, sneaky, like stealing the throne from a king but thor himself told him to lay back and oh that got a twitch out of him but he’s drunk and so everything is alluring and seductive but especially the calloused hands sneaking up his trouser leg and tracing down the length of his calf. 

“do you trust me?”

“no, not really.”

thor’s smile hurts to look at. like looking into the sun. 

“smart boy.”

“boy who knows better,” loki corrects, and shivers from the praise all the same. 

thor takes his non-trust and apparently finds he doesn’t care. he shoves loki’s pantleg to his knee, and keeps stroking down his leg, petting down the fine hairs that loki never really grew out as a lad. 

“what really brings you to me?”

loki is lying prone on his back. drowning in the whiskeyblood flowing through him. far, far away from where help could reach him. his naked leg in the hands of a supposed god. 

he’s compelled to be honest anyway. 

“i’m bored.”

“are you? you must have interesting strangers passing through your tavern every evening.”

loki swallows the kneejerk fear; he never mentioned a tavern. not even his name. 

“they all start to look alike after a while. they’re on their way to hollywood or the white house or whatever the fuck else. and i’m supposed to make them feel like they can do it when i know they won’t.”

“why am i apparently different enough for you to seek me out?”

his palms come to the underside of loki’s foot. he’s inclined to jerk away, lest he bleed all over him, but thor is strong as he looks and loki knows if he wanted to hurt him, he could. 

“i don’t know for sure. but i’d rather take a chance than go home and know i wasted any opportunity i had toward...”

meaning. 

thor’s hands are warm. 

“i would be waiting right here for you, even if you had gone home tonight. i am always here for those who would accept me into their hearts.”

loki tilts his head up, straining his neck to see thor’s lips are upon his knee. 

thor is _kneeling_ before him and kissing his knee and his hands are still encircling his bleeding foot and loki is enraptured by the strange sight. 

“i’m not really ... a believer in god or anything like that, so i, i dunno, if that’s like, something i need to do, i don’t think i can, i—“

his sky eyes open, and catch upon loki’s. 

his pupils shine. lightning bolts slashing across black. gleaming, glowing, yellowing blues. 

loki still doesn’t believe in god, but—

but—

a warm, dizzying wash of pure sensation crashing over his body, no way to name it, just his nerves alight and he’s trembling and he knows he isn’t bleeding anymore and he’s _hard_ and soaked and crossing his legs as thor comes to stand over him, larger than life, larger than he has any right to be in a human skin. 

thor’s gaze cuts into him. loki doesn’t remember when he started crying. 

“you only need to believe in me, loki.”

he does. 

x

loki breaks, shatters apart in thor's grasp, and he lets himself be put back together, piece by piece.

"give yourself to me."

"want to, i want to, fuck, please-"

his fingertips scrape into the wooden wall. raw, pink as his cheeks. loki tosses his head back, and there's a hand curling around his throat, playing over the ridges of his windpipe, tracing his frantic pulse, and if it stole his breath away he'd be happier for it. 

thor fits inside him, but only just. he bullies his way into him, scrapes the rough pads over his fingertips over loki's cunt, demands he open up for him, accept him. he has no choice, because the next moment the hot raspy friction is replaced and loki grabs at air, grabs for nothing, and arches as he's impaled onto thor's cock.

(nobody else. nobody before this. thor is the first. nobody has to-)

"it won't hurt."

that warm soothing _powerful_ hand comes to rest over his belly, and the raw sting of him so soon, so fast, seeps away into pure pleasure. loki doesn't know what he's doing, he just looks down, sees his hips bucking back onto thor's cock, completely in control, leading a _god_ -

"take what you need, loki."

he feels tears prickling at his eyes, and they spill down his cheeks, hot on his skin. thor brings his hand down, trailing down til he grips loki's cock, and he falls apart, faster than he ever has at his own touch.

the barn seems to shudder around them, and he doesn't know if it's the whiskey, if it's thor, if it's the wretched storm that has come to pound upon the walls.

loki thinks he may be sobbing. it may be the howling wind through the rafters.

only thor would know, with his iron grip on loki's throat, and he surges into loki, bruising and deep-

and he's right. it doesn't hurt.


End file.
